


Destiny

by Marmeladeskies



Series: The Mighty Kids [7]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Aasimar, Kid Fic, Sword Fighting, Yasha's Backstory (Critical Role), Yasha's childhood, Yasha's past, matriarchal society structures, non-graphic descriptions of violence and death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21904474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marmeladeskies/pseuds/Marmeladeskies
Summary: A brief glimpse into Yasha's childhood.
Relationships: Yasha (Critical Role)/Original Character(s)
Series: The Mighty Kids [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1577653
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36





	Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by how Yasha reacted to Fjord filing down his teeth as a child.
> 
> Enjoy.

There was a squelching noise when the other girl’s butt collided with the wet, muddy ground, followed by a pained groan.

Yasha pulled back, but only for a split-second, before striking again. The girl managed to block her strike, but not very well, and Yasha’s sword left behind a gash on her forearm. The bright red of the girl’s blood stood out starkly against her white skin. 

Yasha pushed harder, and harder, and harder, leaning all of her weight against her weapon, until the girl was forced to give in, arms trembling as her own sword slipped out of her grasp. 

Yasha kicked it to the side, and, at the same time, arced her weapon over her head. Her pulse was loud in her ears, the rush of her blood like a river. 

She could see the girl’s breath as she exhaled, her expression falling, defeated. This was the moment the girl could give up, admit defeat. But she didn’t. Yasha gave her two seconds to make up her mind, then swung downward.

Faintly, from the side, Yasha could hear her mentor shout in triumph. 

The sword went down, hard, meeting flesh, all of Yasha’s force behind the blow. 

  
  


Blood mixed with the mud and the rain. 

\--

“A well-earned triumph, Yasha.” 

Her mentor’s hand was heavy on her shoulder. Yasha stood straight, even though her spine and her arms hurt really badly. Warriors don’t show weakness. 

“You are one of the best in your peer group. If you continue to fight this well, it will not take long for the Sky Spear to notice you.” 

Her mentor sounded very pleased, and so Yasha was, too. She tried not to let the pride get to her head as her mentor walked her away from the Bloodground  _ (an arrogant warrior is a bad warrior) _ but she did hold her head high. The spectators made way for her, first the other girls in fighting age, some eyeing her with jealousy, some eyeing her with unveiled admiration. Then the women; many of them giving her benevolent, grimly satisfied looks and nods, a few of them narrowing their eyes at her- the ones whose daughters she had bested. 

Then, further away from the Bloodground, came the men and boys, and smaller children. There were a few low whispers, many downturned eyes, two or three boys blushing when she walked by. Yasha barely paid them any mind. 

Her mentor lead her away from the Bloodground, away from the tribe, to her tent. 

Inside, it was warm, dry, and Yasha felt herself relax a little. Her arms still felt shaky, and there was a deep tiredness creeping into her bones. 

“Sit.” Her mentor gestured to one of two wooden stools. Her mate must have prepared a fire; coals were still smoldering in the center of the tent. Yasha watched, with heavy lids, as her mentor poured some water into a pot and brought it to boil, adding goat’s milk, a few spices and sweet tree sap. 

Eventually, there was a wooden mug in Yasha’s hand, delicious-smelling steam rising to her nose. 

“Drink.”, her mentor ordered. Yasha obeyed. It reminded her faintly of something she’d been given to drink as a very small child, back when her father had still taken care of her, before she’d joined the training ranks. This was sharper, though, less sweet. 

“Tell me why you won.” Her mentor sat down opposite of her, her hulking form folding. 

“I was stronger.”, Yasha replied without hesitation. 

“Yes. What else?”

“She was too confident in the first half, and then became insecure when she realized I was better than she had expected.” 

“Correct. What else?”

Yasha thought for a moment, but nothing came to her mind. “I don’t know.”, she replied truthfully. Not knowing was less shameful than pretending to know something you did not. 

“Because it was your destiny.”, her mentor supplied matter-of-factly, and took a big gulp of her beverage. 

Yasha looked down at her own. The firelight reflected on the surface of it, below the steam.

“So it was her destiny to die?” 

Yasha didn’t look away when her mentor’s eyes bore into hers. Instead, she held her gaze. 

“She would have died at some point, Yasha. If not by your sword, then by someone else’s. It’s the destiny of a warrior who isn’t strong enough.” 

“She could have given up.” 

“You know what it means to give up. She could have never been a proper warrior. She chose death over the shame of a life like that.” Her mentor finished her beverage. “She fought hard. You fought harder. You won.” 

She stood. “Now rest. Tomorrow, you will be stronger for the fight you won today.” 

She stepped around Yasha, moving to leave the tent to give her some space, and time to clean her weapon, but stopped by her side, a hand on her shoulder. 

“I’m proud of you, Yasha.”

“Thank you.” 

Her mentor left her. When the leather flaps of the tent fell shut, Yasha could finally exhale, her rigid spine curving again. She blinked away the memory of red blood splattering across her sword and the ground, and finished her drink.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment to tell me what you think or kudos to make me smile? :)


End file.
